Rebecca and Aaron

      On Raglan Road of an autumn day I saw her first and knew,
      That her dark hair would weave a snare that I might one day rue.
      I saw the danger and I passed along the enchanted way.
      And I said, let grief be a falling leaf at the dawning of the day.
      On Grafton Street in November we tripped lightly along the ledge of a deep ravine where can be seen.
      The worth of passions pledged the Queen of Hearts still making tarts and I not making hay.
      Oh, I loved too much and by such, by such.
      Is happiness thrown away?
      I gave her gifts of the mind, I gave her the secret sign.
      That’s known to the artists who have known the true gods of sound and stone.
      And her words and tint without stint I gave her poems to say with her own name there and her own dark hair like clouds over fields of May.
      On a quiet street where old ghosts meet I see her walking now away from me so hurriedly.
      My reason must allow that I had loved not as I should a creature made of clay when the angel woos the clay, he’ll lose his wings at dawn of day.
      “Raglan Road” by The Dubliners.